


In Search of a Midnight Kiss

by AvaRosier



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-15
Updated: 2021-01-15
Packaged: 2021-03-12 16:35:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,643
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28763430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AvaRosier/pseuds/AvaRosier
Summary: “Darcy,” Jane rejoined the conversation, evidently having heroically mastered her trauma. “You made it your New Year’s Resolution for this year to get over yourself and, quote,climb that dorito of freedom like a tree, end quote.”“Yeah, and? I still have plenty of time to do that.”“Tomorrow night is New Year’s Eve. You have twenty-four hours and some change left.”“I can do it.” Darcy glanced over and up at Thor, who had the kind of grimace on his face that said he wasn’t entirely confident in her ability to make a move on Steve. “I can! I’m just the kind of procrastinator who needs the pressure of an imminent deadline to motivate her. I do my best work at the last minute.”“That I can believe,” muttered Jane, dry as dust.
Relationships: Darcy Lewis/Steve Rogers
Comments: 13
Kudos: 264





	In Search of a Midnight Kiss

**Author's Note:**

  * For [StarlightAfterAStorm](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarlightAfterAStorm/gifts).



> This fic draws small inspiration from Love, Actually and Amelie, with a wink and nod to Buffy. I'm basically ignoring virtually all of Civil War onwards re: the Avengers. The bit about the Grinch is legit a discussion that went down in the Romancelandia corner of Twitter and if I've traumatized you...well by the time the 2021 holiday season comes around, about five years will have elapsed so that's enough time to move past it.
> 
> Massive thanks to biblioworm for beta-ing this and reassuring me that no, even after barely writing in 2020, I had not forgotten how to English Language. You have her to thank for the idea about the red sweater and the line about the Destroyer. 
> 
> StarlightAfterAStorm, I hope this fic hits two out of three of the elements you gave as ideas: matchmakers and knitting.

Steve had never cared much for the cold; a lifetime of either being in danger of dying from pneumonia or being a frozen block of ice in the Arctic had done that for him. Still, he found he could enjoy being outside in winter a lot easier when he had a well-heated homebase waiting for him. Snow had fallen around the upstate New York area, turning the Hudson River Valley into a winter wonderland several days too late for a white Christmas.

If he tuned out Sam and Bucky’s constant squabbling, it really was a beautiful day with clear blue skies, a distant sun, and scant wind.

“You’re stacking them wrong.”

“I’m not stacking them any kinda way.”

“If you alternate the direction of each layer it’ll make it quicker and easier to unload.”

“At least I’m helping, unlike you, Mr. The Cozy Soldier over there.” 

While Bucky had deigned to come all the way out into the forest with them, he’d refused to leave the heated interior of the truck. Currently, he was stretched out sideways in the backseat with sunglasses on, but he’d left the rear window open so he could tell Steve and Sam about the pisspoor job they were doing gathering firewood.

Bringing the axe down on a log, Steve split it in one smooth chop. Sam maintained eye contact with Bucky as he reached over and grabbed both halves, tossing them haphazardly into the cargo bed of the truck. The Avengers facility was having a New Year’s Eve party tomorrow night and there would be an outdoor fire pit so people could mill about on the patio with some degree of warmth. Steve had volunteered to chop the wood and transport it back to the facility; it’d seemed like a great way to get rid of the restless energy that had dogged him for what seemed like weeks now. Also, the exercise kept the cold from seeping in too deeply through his clothes.

Picking up another log, Steve decided to not even bother this time—he ripped it apart in his gloved hands. His friends’ heads turned to stare at him in unison.

“Man, what bee’s got into your bonnet?” Sam muttered, not the least bit impressed. Steve grinned at the other man and gave him his best ‘aw, shucks’ shrug.

“Not a bee, a certain dame,” Steve’s bestest and oldest friend tattled through the open window. 

“Shut up, Bucky,” Steve bit out before picking up another log. 

“Oooh yes.” Sam moved away to lean against the truck. “ _ Darcy _ . No wonder he’s been so frustrated lately.”

“I’m not frustrated.” The log splintered into dozens of pieces. Both of his friends smirked.

“Alright, Pinocchio,” Sam drawled, rolling his eyes.

Bucky reached over and tapped a button on the dashboard console. “FRIDAY, doll, how long has Darcy Lewis worked here?”

To Tony’s horror, and Steve’s everlasting amusement, Bucky had taken to the various technologies of the future with absolute glee, even going as far as to lay on some of the old James Buchanan Barnes charm whenever he addressed the facility’s AI.

The strangest thing? It actually worked.

“ _ From the time Dr. Lewis’s paperwork was filed with Human Resources, precisely one year, two months, eleven days, five hours and eleven minutes have elapsed, Sergeant Barnes. _ ” FRIDAY absolutely did not purr.

“And how much of that time has Captain Rogers spent staring at Ms Lewis for longer than 3.3 seconds outside of a conversation?”

There was a pause.

“ _ Approximately one year, two months, eleven days, two hours and forty-six minutes _ .” 

Steve hung his head in shame.

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” Bucky said.

“Have I been that obvious?”

“Yes,” both men chorused.

“Does…” he swallowed hard. “Does she know?”

Bucky snorted. “You lucked out there. Lewis is too busy looking away after mooning at you to notice you mooning at her.”

“She looks at me?”

Sam nodded sagely. “Like she looks at donuts.”

Steve remembered the meeting they’d had in one of the conference rooms several months ago, when Darcy was there to update Director Hill on the latest round of proposals to the amended Sokovia Accords. Someone else had been talking and when he glanced over at Darcy, she was staring longingly, lovingly, at the platter of donuts that had been placed at the center of the table.

“Whoa.”

Sam snapped his fingers in front of Steve’s face, pulling him from his revelation. “The point is, we thought that maybe now would be a good time to...I don’t know...finally do something about this.”  _ Man up, you idiot _ went unspoken.

He gripped the axe tighter, one thumb worrying along the smooth wood. “I should. I’ll ask her out for a coffee in the cafeteria after the New Year.”

Sam’s stare was deadpan but it was Bucky who slid his sunglasses down his nose with one finger and squinted at him before finally opening his mouth. “Yeah, that’s great, Stevie. And then halfway through your coffee you can casually drop into the conversation that you’d like to marry her and have lots of sex and babies.”

“I fucking hate you two.”

* * *

  
  


Steve had always thought of himself as a good neighbor. He generally kept to himself but made sure the people in the building knew him in case they needed a cup of sugar or help fixing the sink. He was quiet and didn’t host loud parties...other than the time his apartment got shot up by HYDRA, that was. 

When Darcy Lewis moved into the room next to his at the upstate facility, he found himself painfully aware of their neighborly status. Specifically, the strange and persistent sense that he ought to be doing something  _ more _ for her.

The very day she arrived (with one tiny pissed-off astrophysicist and a baby bilgesnipe in tow), Darcy had knocked on his door, holding a plate piled high with brownies. 

“Hey, Cap,” she’d let out in a breathless rush as soon as he opened the door, “I thought I’d introduce myself—Doctor Darcy Lewis. And I’m not telling you I’m a doctor to be snooty, I worked hard to earn that title no matter what the medical doctors and hard sciences doctors say.” She had rolled her eyes. “Anyways...everyone can always use some homemade brownies, but I won’t lie—this is a preemptive apology for anything you might hear me yell while I’m reading the news or watching  _ 90 Day Fiance _ .”

With her well-worn Culver hoodie, bright blue eyes, and hair in something that was half french-braids, half pigtails, Darcy had seemed lovely and genuine and Steve had very nearly been struck speechless by how excited he was at the prospect of seeing her all the time.

He’d taken the plate from her with what he hoped was a nice smile. “I’ll accept your preemptive apology, Dr. Lewis, but you might have to resupply me with another one down the road.”

“Can do, Captain Rogers.” She’d mock saluted. 

“Call me Steve.”

Damn if those hadn’t been the best brownies he’d ever had.

Steve had washed and returned her plate a week later with a note complimenting her baking skills. Then the Avengers were called out and by the time he returned, Darcy was in DC liaising with policy analysts on Capitol Hill. One month passed and it wasn’t until he picked up the faint strains of a rock song on the other side of his wall one morning that he even realized she had returned. When they ran into each other in the hallway outside their rooms, it had been on the tip of his tongue to let her know that he could help her out the next time she had to be away:  _ I could water your plants for you, Are you sure you don’t want someone to check in on Dr Foster...just to be safe, I absolutely am willing and able to feed or play ‘fetch the fifty-pound log’ with Sir Snuffles _ .

Not wanting to seem like a creeper, he’d abstained.

It was early October when Steve heard the first moan through the wall separating their rooms. His eyes had snapped open and he listened intently in the sudden silence, barely daring to breathe. The sound came again, and there was no mistaking the squeak of her bedsprings or the shuddering whimpers. Alternating between cursing and praising the super hearing he’d received courtesy of the serum, he laid there for the five minutes it took for Darcy to expediently get herself off.

Steve didn’t even allow himself to think—he just pushed down his boxer briefs and took himself in hand.

He didn’t even last a minute.

* * *

To the north, Darcy could see shifting neon lights in shades of green, blue, and purple. They shimmered and curved, making the night sky appear deeper. Not the best aurora borealis she’d seen, but this one was decent enough.

“Darcy?”

“Mmmhm?” she murmured distractedly. “I know I was a whiny bitch about coming out here in the cold in the middle of the night but really, stargazing was a great idea. Ninety-eight percent of my time is split between the facility and D.C., I feel like I’m reconnecting with nature here.” She had on a turtleneck and two layers of sweaters underneath her coat, also the thickest socks known to man stuffed into her hiking boots. If she kept jumping up and down every few minutes, this really wasn’t so bad.

“Darcy, we have something we’d like to talk to you about,” Jane said again, this time more insistently. 

Recognizing what she had termed Jane’s ‘Resolve Voice’, Darcy turned and stared suspiciously at Jane and Thor where they stood shoulder to shoulder in front of the truck. Well, shoulder to elbow. Her eyes narrowed further. “Wait, is this an intervention? Because I was just having a bit of fun using the facility intranet to spread the Grinch Dick Discourse—”

“The Grinch Dick Discourse?” Jane asked in a strangled voice. 

“You know...does the Grinch have a fuzzy green dick or is it pink and hairless?”

“I would like to go back to two minutes ago when I did not know this information,” Jane whimpered. “But I asked.  _ Why did I ask _ ?”

Darcy would feel worse about traumatizing her friend like this, but she’s overheard what passes for dirty talk between those two way too many times to count. Put it this way: she’s  _ owed _ . She’s owed  _ a lot _ .

Thor rubbed Jane’s back comfortingly and then leveled Darcy with a solemn look. “We wish to discuss the tender feelings you have long held for Captain Rogers.”

Darcy made a production out of looking around the empty, snow-covered clearing. “Tender feelings? I don’t know her.”

Thor booped her nose. BOOPED HER NOSE. “Your willful denial of the truth is adorable, dear friend.” 

“Darcy,” Jane rejoined the conversation, evidently having heroically mastered her trauma. “You made it your New Year’s Resolution for this year to get over yourself and, quote,  _ climb that dorito of freedom like a tree _ , end quote.”

“Yeah, and? I still have plenty of time to do that.”

“Tomorrow night is New Year’s Eve. You have twenty-four hours and some change left.”

“I can do it.” Darcy glanced over and up at Thor, who had the kind of grimace on his face that said he wasn’t entirely confident in her ability to make a move on Steve. “I can! I’m just the kind of procrastinator who needs the pressure of an imminent deadline to motivate her. I do my best work at the last minute.”

“That I can believe,” muttered Jane, dry as dust. 

Thor stroked his beard thoughtfully and then reached back to pat the side of the massive truck. “If all else fails, you could always run the Captain over with this mighty steed, the Four Wheel Drive.”

* * *

  
  
Darcy was well aware that she used flippancy as a shield. 

She wouldn’t describe herself as the boldest or most confident of women, able to make the first move on whomever struck her fancy, but she wasn’t a total wallflower either. Maybe at first, she’d been a bit intimidated by CAPTAIN AMERICA... _ Steve’s _ ...presence and sheer hotness. But the more the novelty of the former wore off, the more she got to know the man behind the shield. 

No, a good 75% of her complete inability to ask Steve out on an actualpants date had to do with herself. 

It had been an eventful year, okay? Which was saying something when her twenties had been full of discovering  _ aliens existed _ , taking off after graduation to thwart another invasion by  _ more aliens _ , then dealing with the boredom that followed by going to graduate school. (On the plus side, she’d had one hell of a dissertation proposal.) 

She’d accepted a job offer from Pepper Potts and Maria Hill to work with the political liaison arm of the Avengers and not only was she actually using her doctoral degree, she was now building the foundational blocks of a career. She, Darcy Eileen Lewis, was most definitely an adult now. Just in time for her to turn the big 3-0 this year. It was all as comforting as it was terrifying.

And somewhere in the middle, she’d altered her personal style and mindset so that they were less “broke intern who steals WiFi from the nearby ‘FBI surveillance van’ account” and more “badass competent bitch who knows what she’s about”. The latter was still a work in progress but Darcy had been raised in the school of fake it until you make it.

It was easier for her to be confident when she felt rooted, and while she wouldn’t call the facility a home, she was still having the kind of experiences she fully planned to tell her grandkids about. Her bosses had given her plenty of positive feedback at her annual review, so that helped a lot. Steve telling her she was doing a great job and that he believed in her also helped, she wasn’t gonna lie. Validation was helluva drug.

Steve Rogers was a great leader—he truly cared about the people under his command. If one of those dickweasels tried to pull macho bullshit to impress him, he would make it explicitly clear that he had no tolerance for it. It was hilarious* to watch the assholes backpedal and then fall apart in confusion about How to Male without being toxic.

*And so, so arousing, especially when he used that low, steely voice Darcy had nicknamed his ‘Daddy Dom Voice’.

Steve Rogers also spent several nights in one of the common rooms with her, binge-watching Bob Ross episodes. He respected her title, listened to her recommendations even when he didn’t quite agree with her conclusions, but he also relaxed around her...let his walls down. For his birthday this year, she got several of his friends at the facility to go in on a gift together: a startup painters kit. 

He’d park the easel out in the forest where there was a stony incline and a babbling brook, plus a shitton of happy little trees. Sometimes, Darcy would take her latest knitting project out there and they’d work in companionable silence. From there, Steve had asked her to show him and Bucky the fine art of knit one, purl two. So yeah, it was impossible not to start falling for Steve, especially when he kept smiling at her even though he was knitting the most misshapen scarf known to man.

So, basically, she needed to woman up and not throw away her shot.

* * *

The party was still in full swing at 11:00 and Steve spotted Darcy sitting in a chair on the far side of the patio, boots propped up on the stone rim of the fire pit. She had a heavy blanket over her lap and hands covered in fingerless gloves cupping a half-full plastic cup of wine. In the glow of the firelight, with embers drifting around her in the air, she was so beautiful he couldn’t tear his eyes away. 

“C’mon Buck, let’s go talk to Darcy.”

“Talk to her your own damn sel—” Steve grabbed a fistful of his friend’s sweater and half-dragged him along.

“Mind if we join you?”

“Hey, Steve,” She smiled brightly up at him. To Bucky, however, she nodded grimly. “Barnes.”

Bucky was equally deadpan. “Lewis.” 

Steve let out a long-suffering sigh. He didn’t understand those two and their insistence on greeting one other like an old nemesis that they grudgingly respected. They pulled up two chairs and took a seat next to her.

“You two are looking remarkably relaxed for two supersoldiers who can’t get drunk,” Darcy said, pointing an accusing finger between them.

“Thor,” was all the explanation Steve had to give, holding up his mug of Asgardian mead. He felt light and bubbly, but half of that could be due to present company.

“Ugh, I should’ve known. You didn’t swear to help him fight a bilgesnipe to make your ancestors proud, did you? Because Sir Snuffles is a cinnamon roll who’s never done anything wrong. Ever.”

“Sir Snuffles tore apart the inside of a quinjet.” Bucky pointed out.

“Ever,” Darcy continued to insist, crossing her arms in front of her. The act brought his attention to her cleavage in the lacy black dress and Steve flushed guiltily even as Bucky turned to give him a look that said  _ You’re welcome _ .

“Anyways, I wanted to thank you again for giving Bucky and I those knitting lessons. We found them very therapeutic. Right, Buck?”

Bucky muttered something into his mead and then jerked when Steve slapped his back warningly. He glared at Steve. “Yes. Very helpful.”

“It was no problem. Really. The world needs more men to cast aside the shackles of toxic masculinity and embrace things like knitting. Plus, Natasha showed me four ways to use the needles to kill a man.” Darcy stated proudly.

Now it was Steve who choked on his beer and Bucky who slapped his pal’s back harder than was strictly necessary.

“So, you got plans for the weekend, Lewis?” he asked her.

“Meh, I’ll be staying here, wearing nothing but pajamas, and watching all the tv.”

At that, Bucky grinned like the cat that had caught the canary. There it was, the perfect opening for Steve to ask Darcy out on a date...if only he could stop being such a coward.

“Sounds, ah,” Steve cleared his throat, “sounds relaxing.”

“You have no idea. What about you gents? Got any plans?”

Steve’s response was derailed by Bucky pulling out his phone, tapping a few keys, and then staring down at the screen in consternation.

“How the fuck-” he growled.

Steve craned his neck, trying to get a good look at Bucky’s phone screen. “Another one?” 

“Yep.”

“Another one what?” Darcy asked, the spot between her eyebrows wrinkling in confusion.

Over the past few months, Bucky had been the recipient of text messages from an unknown number, each message consisting of a picture of a Bucky Bear having mini-adventures. Enjoying a coffee in the nearest small town, hiking around the nearby mountain trails, buying plums at a farmer’s market, and so on. No matter how much Bucky investigated every inch of the photos, including their metadata, he could not figure out who was behind them. Steve had his theories, however.

“What’s it this time?” he asked Bucky.

“What’s what?” Darcy asked, eyes ping-ponging between the two men like their behavior would suddenly make sense.

“I know that sliver of a bookcase in the corner. Bastard broke into my room.” Scowling, Bucky set his mug down and took off, leaving Steve alone with an adorably confused Darcy.

Steve grinned at her. “You know what’s what.”

“I do?” He liked it when she pouted, especially since she often wore darker lipstick shades these days. Well, he liked just about anything she did with her mouth. 

“You made a mistake, picture before the last. Buck didn’t realize it and I did you a favor by keeping my mouth shut.”

“And what mistake is it that I hypothetically made?”

“There was a tiny bit of red fluff stuck to the edge of Bucky Bear’s mask—you wouldn’t really see it unless you paid attention to the backlighting. But I recognized it: it was a perfect match to the red angora sweater you were wearing the day the picture was sent.” Steve certainly had stared at her whenever she was in the vicinity that day; she’d looked so lovely and striking, the soft material of her sweater mocking him with fantasies.  _ If she were your girl, Rogers, you could have your arms around her right now. _

Darcy sighed and put her hands up in the universal sign of surrender. “Okay, Steve. You’ve found me out. What do I owe you in exchange for your silence?”

“Nothing. You owe me nothing, Darcy.” Steve stared down into the contents of his mug, thoughtful. “You know, when he went to those places looking for clues, Bucky ended up spending time there. Trying flavored, overpriced coffee and those cronuts. He started bringing home massive hauls from the Farmers Market...even hiked to the top of one of those mountain trails and sent me a selfie.”

Darcy hummed. “Was his hair in a topknot in said selfie?”

“Yes,” Steve said gravely. “Yes it was.”

“Yikes,” she tut-tutted. “Still, I’m glad Barnes is learning the fine art of self-care.”

“It’s a kind, if devious, thing you’re doing for him, Darce.” 

She ducked her face down, suddenly bashful. “No offense, I know you two are forever bros, but you kept hovering and looking all worried about him and it was clearly stressing you out.”

_ Man up, you idiot _ . “So, you did this for me?” he probed carefully.

Darcy startled then, staring at him with wide eyes that bordered on panic. “Uh...what time is it? My phone is somewhere under all these blankets.” She kicked the thick material off her legs and onto the ground.

Steve checked his wristwatch. “It’s 11:35,” he told her slowly, haltingly.

“You know, I think I’m going to grab some more wine. Don’t move, I’ll be right back!” She took off, leaving behind her plastic cup, still half-full.

“Darcy—” he called out, but she was already halfway to the patio doors. Twenty feet away, he spotted Sam shaking his head at him.

He should go after her...he  _ will _ go after her...but Steve hesitated for a moment. The last thing he wanted was to pressure Darcy or make her feel boxed in. Was it possible he was misreading the whole thing?

Then it hit him in a lightning rush: He knew about her donuts for him and she’d basically confirmed it just then...what if she didn’t know about  _ his _ donuts for  _ her _ ?

Yeah, that thought process didn’t really make sense, but it didn’t need to because he was already halfway to the patio doors.

“ _ Fina-fucking-lly _ !” he heard Sam mutter.

  
  


* * *

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuckity Fuck.”

Darcy stopped pacing back and forth in the small alcove that now served as her hidey hole. How long did it take to die from embarrassment anyways? 

“You are definitely Dr. Darcy Chickenshit Lewis,” she muttered to herself, hopping up onto the counter and knocking back the new cup of wine she’d poured herself in a panic-induced daze before making a beeline for the alcove. 

Steve had looked at her point-blank and asked her if she had feelings for him and she had run off like Destroyer 2.0 had landed and was targeting her emotions. For Frigga’s Sake, she had faced down evil fuckers in Congress who all looked like variations on the Pale Man, but she couldn’t tell Steven Grant Rogers that they should go steady. Darcy let out a long, miserable groan.

As if summoned by her thoughts, Steve’s broad shoulders were filling up the entryway to the alcove.

“Penny for your thoughts?” His voice was a low rumble, his movements slow and careful like he was afraid she might take off again. Darcy sighed glumly. Yeah she’d fucked this up.

“Even at that price, I’m not sure you could afford me, soldier.”

“That so?” It should be criminal how good he looked, leaning against the narrow wall that kept him out of sight from the rest of the party.

Now, Darcy was conscious of the way her skirt was bunched up, showing more thigh. She didn’t feel a pressing need to tug the hem back down, not even when she noticed Steve’s eyes following the bared expanse of leg.  _ Especially _ because she noticed Steve’s eyes following the bared expanse of leg. 

“You were my New Year’s resolution for this year.” She announced, going for broke. “I was going to make a move and ask you out on a date, but in a way that would really impress the socks off you. Then I decided putting myself on the line like that was too scary, so the new plan was to just leap off a chair and plant one on you. I’ve seen your reflexes, so I’m pretty sure you’d catch me.”

“Oh, I’d definitely catch you, but it seems to me you still have fifteen minutes to complete your mission.” He held up his wrist to show her the watch face.

“Yeah, but it feels like a complete bust after me avoiding both plans all year and running away instead of admitting my feelings for you just then.”

Steve nodded and shuffled his feet a bit. “What if I told you that I have feelings for you, too, but I’ve also been too much of a coward to act upon them for...oh, a year or so?”

She stared at him, heart hammering in her chest. “Are you drunk?”

“Nope.”

“Then tell me again.”

Steve pushed off from the wall and stepped closer, shrugging off his jacket to, Frigga bless him, reveal a light sweater that was definitely at least one size too small. He placed the jacket on the far end of the counter she was currently sitting on. Darcy watched his every action with bated breath. 

“Do you want me to tell you again with words, or would you rather I tell you with a kiss?”

Good thing she was seated, because her knees melted just then. “Yes, please,” she breathed.

One more step and Steve was right there, warm breath tickling her temple and cheek. The scent of his cologne invaded her senses.

“Yes, ma’am,” he murmured before capturing her lips in a deep, heated, and utterly thorough kiss. One hand slid around her back, tangling in the curls that fell to her mid-back. Not one to be outdone, Darcy wound an arm around his shoulders and cupped a bearded jaw. Steve’s kisses had their own gravitational pull, like a black hole, and Darcy lost all sense of space and time.

When they finally resurfaced for air, she discovered that one of her legs was now wrapped around his hip, one of his hands halfway up her skirt, and that she had apparently ran her fingers through his hair so much that the strands were sticking out in every direction. Also, Steve Rogers looked rather fetching with Velvet Myth smudged all over his lips.

Steve removed the hand that was under her skirt and checked the time. “There’s still ten minutes left before midnight, I don’t think the party’s stopping for a while.”

Darcy shrugged, patting his hair to smooth it down. “Who cares? I’m only here to create an alibi.”

“Well in that case, wanna go back to your place and neck?” He grinned boyishly down at her.

She pretended to contemplate that. “Hmm, better make it your place. If I’m noisy, I have to bake brownies for my neighbor, and I plan to be noisy tonight.”


End file.
